Waste Not, Want Not…Same Old Shit

Just how far does one have to travel up one’s own arse before you forget that there is a world out there?

It’s a question that has perplexed scholars and philosophers for thousands of years. Yet, should it be of any real concern to any of us who choose to live in the anal address?

This writer has long advocated a more widespread appreciation of waste material, just as long as that waste material is natural and organic.

Who cannot fail to appreciate the aroma of freshly produced horseshit? I know one president in the world who swears by it. Anyway bull-shitting apart, there is something rather rural and fine about the qualities of decent pile of homemade fertiliser. When I was a kid, the prospect of a shovel of the stuff, caressed around the base of a rose bush, made said waste move faster that itself off a shovel.